


Paperwork.

by inbox



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Financial Marriage, Gen, Marriage, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3767116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inbox/pseuds/inbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are all types of weddings in New Vegas, and not all of them are happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paperwork.

"It's not much of a pension. Hundred and change a month." Boone rocked on the balls of his feet, the one concession to nervousness Six had ever seen him show. "It'll look after you. Afterwards."  
  
Six picked at a hole in her hat, wiggling her little finger through the straw until it gave way. The air here in the corner of the embassy yard felt kiln-dried, biting and harsh on her throat as she tried to think of something to say.

"Don't really want your charity," she eventually said, more to break the silence than make conversation. She stared at her boots and the tiny sprigs of grass that bravely ventured through the cracked courtyard bricks, desperately trying to think about things other than being stuck in this moment.   
  
"It's not charity," he snapped back. "Want you to have it."  
  
The heat was doing them no favours, pinking their cheeks as they stood together under the shade of a wilting tree. If anyone glanced at their direction it would've been easy enough to assume they were close friends, lovers maybe, shoulder to shoulder during a rare moment alone. The reality was - as most realities were - more mundane. They spent too much time alone together, grated against each other, too much time spent in silence trudging across badlands and through canyons that echoed nothing but their footsteps. He needed a leader, she needed a gun.   
  
The hole in her hat grew larger, nervous fingers unthreading and worrying at the edges until he snatched it out of her hands like she was a stubborn child. 

"I suppose asking you to donate your pension to the Followers is out of the question?" She sighed long and low, feeling inexplicably tired in the midday heat. "I don't need to be looked after. If this you feeling obligated…"  
  
Boone exhaled sharply between clenched teeth. "Not an obligation. Not… not anything. What family am I supposed to give it to?" The leather strapping holding his rifle made a creak of protest as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I'd get laughed out if I said I wanted to give it to the Followers. Want you to have it. I'm not going to need it."  
  
"So you're still planning on…?"  
  
Boone called it 'going down fighting', Six privately called it 'giving in easily'. Any time they tentatively discussed their inevitable scrappy, ill-equipped fight against the Legion, Boone refused to think any further than drawing a bead on the Legate himself or die trying. She just changed the topic now, not really wanting to give much thought to the real prospect of rolling Boone's body down the steep concrete slope of Hoover Damn to the waiting hold of the river below. Focusing too heavily on his decline just left her feeling jittery and uncomfortable, even despite not caring for his company much whilst he was still breathing.  
  
"Planning on something like that," he said in a low voice. "No matter what happens, I've got plans." He spat on the ground. "Don't you worry about me, Six."  
  
_Don't worry_ , she thought.  _I won't._  
  
"Fine," she said, the fight knocked out of her. "Fine. If it's what you want. If it'll make you feel better."  
  
In a small office in the back of the NCR embassy, Craig Boone married a flint-eyed woman named Six and named her his next-of-kin. She refused his last name, and neither of them smiled as a secretary bustled off to file the paperwork.


End file.
